


To Kill the Great Letter of Significant Elasticity

by myglassesaredirty



Series: It Had to be You [16]
Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Econ Teacher, F/M, Gen, actually i've always known that, all a guy has to say to me is 'hey you look nice' and i'm his, don't expect scheduled updates, english teacher, i apologize for none of this, i have like 60k for the middle chapters and this first chapter took me months to come up with, look i'm a validation whore and i now realize that, madry, nah not really but that's not that far off
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21541663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myglassesaredirty/pseuds/myglassesaredirty
Summary: Henry Spencer is a twenty-four-year old man who teaches economics at Leland Bosseigh High School. He loves the gig: he gets to make a difference in students' lives, show them that someone in the world is on their side, but he can really only stand one of his coworkers.That is, until Madeleine Baker moves into the classroom across from him, frazzled and nervous about teaching her first AP English class. She's a natural with the kids. She'll do just fine.And if Henry Spencer falls in love with her along the way, well…that's just something he's going to have to keep to himself.
Relationships: Henry Spencer & Brett Connors, Henry Spencer/Madeleine Spencer, Madeleine Spencer & Brett Connors
Series: It Had to be You [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1228847
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	To Kill the Great Letter of Significant Elasticity

**Author's Note:**

> Look. It has been months since I've written anything, and I miss it. I miss churning out fic after fic. I wrote for Full House twice, but that doesn't really count. So I'm just gonna be sitting here, in between studying for finals, and I'll be churning out fic material. Don't expect much after Thanksgiving ends, though. I have a bio final to do well on, and I have to get an A on my next two journalism tests to get a decent grade in the course.
> 
> Regardless, I'm back to posting because I miss it. It won't be frequent, Lord knows, but it'll be here. Shawn won't make an appearance at all until maybe the epilogue or something way back at the end, so don't hold your breaths for him
> 
> Also this idea has been in my head for literal months. Ask Julie. She can vouch for me.

His feet slap against the sidewalk.

_ One, two. _

Sweat gathers at the nape of his neck, and his lungs scream for oxygen.

_ One, two. _

His vision blurs, and he licks his lips, blinking past the sweat dripping into his eyes.

_ One, two. _

His time isn’t fast enough, and he’s signed on to the biggest half marathon in Santa Barbara. He wants to compete at the Boston Half-Marathon, but he can’t do that if he can’t run faster, if he still can’t keep up with his little brother.

_ One, two, one, two, one, two. _

Jack is a dickhead, if Henry were to be completely honest. Mr. Gangly thinks he’s all so high and mighty and doesn’t need college or education or any form of stability. Henry loves the bastard, but he also kind of hates him.

At the wharf, Henry slows down to a walk and sips at his Gatorade. Very few people are out and about this early in the morning, and part of him is grateful for that. He likes the solitude. He likes coming down to the wharf to breathe in the salty air, to wave at fishermen coming and going, and to embrace the sunrise. The sun kisses the water, lighting up the edge of the horizon with a splash of pink, and Henry smiles softly.

He doesn’t have long before he has to get back to his apartment – seven miles away – and get ready for school. It’s his first day back, and this year, Herb decided that, instead of teaching biology – which Henry had his degree in – he would be teaching economics. He started teaching last year, when his dad started shaking his fist at him to get a job. He doesn’t really know why he went the teaching route; after all, he was all set to become a cop, even graduating with a secondary major in criminology from Berkeley. Now, call it what you will – cowardice or common sense – but he backed out of the police academy before his enrollment was final. There was just something about the whole “my future wife and kids won’t have any idea if I’m coming home at night” idea that offset him. His dad was pissed about the decision. Henry, on the other hand, is fine with it. He gets to make a difference in teenagers’ lives. There’s nothing bad to be said about it.

Except, of course, when he has students like Jack.

One of the fishermen clears his throat and squints at Henry. “Whatcha thinkin’ about o’er there, son?”

Henry raises his eyebrows and shrugs. “I don’t know. First day back at work after break.”

The same fisherman nods. “Dontcha hafta get goin’? It’s almost six o’clock.”

Henry furrows his eyebrows. “What? That can’t be. I haven’t been here that long.” He checks his watch and whistles lowly. “Or maybe I have. Well, thanks, Paul. Have a great day.”

With that, Henry sticks his earbuds back in and sprints back home.

*

Madeleine Baker would not describe herself as a morning person. Maybe she would describe herself as a late morning person, but if she has to get out of bed anytime before nine or ten o’clock, she will not function like a human being for the rest of the day.

So she sometimes wonders why she signed up to become a teacher in the first place.

Her alarm blares in her ear at full volume, and she jolts up in bed, looking around frantically. Sunlight slants through her bedroom window, and she finally makes sense of the awful sound. Maddy reaches for her phone, turns off the alarm, and seriously thinks about calling in sick on her first day of work.

That probably would leave a terrible impression. It’s not like she’s pregnant or anything. She has no excuse.

Finally, she sighs and forces herself out of bed. The thought of breakfast turns her stomach, so she just grabs her tupperware full of apple slices and nibbles at the slices while staring out at her living room.

She is so scared for her first day of teaching. It’s not the fact that she doesn’t know the material – she does, she definitely knows what she’s talking about (she didn’t get a Master’s degree in English for nothing, after all) – but rather that she’s going to be talking to teenagers who don’t necessarily care about the material she has to teach, and she has to try and find a way to make them  _ want _ to care. She remembers high school. She knows what it was like.

Ironically, Maddy’s bachelor degree is in psychology, not English, but when she saw how much money it would cost just to become a psychologist, she didn’t think it was worth it. I mean, it might have been eventually, but she has always loved English class, and teaching seemed like a good idea.

She taps her fingers nervously against her counter and bounces on the balls of her feet. Besides teaching kids who are only taking English class because they absolutely have to, she has to contend with teachers who already all know each other and are probably all friends, and there’s no telling what her neighbors will be like.

Maddy shoves another apple slice into her mouth and heads back to her room. As she gets ready, she keeps telling herself that the first day shouldn’t be too difficult.

She’s ready to see which students decide to challenge her on that.

*

Henry pulls open the door, not expecting anyone behind him. Before the door can close behind him, however, he hears heels clicking against the asphalt and a desperate, “Hold the door, hold the door, hold the door!”

So he holds the door.

A young woman, clutching folders to her chest, hurries in his direction, trying her utmost to run in heels, though Henry assumes the task is far more difficult than he would be led to believe. Her blonde hair flies into her face, and she tries to spit out the hair that found its way into her mouth. She shoulders her way through the door. “Thank you so much,” she says breathlessly.

Henry grins, shakes his head, and follows her into the building. “You new here?”

The woman glances at him over her shoulder, and her face falls. “Is it that obvious?”

Henry laughs softly. “It’s no problem, really. Heck, last year, I was even worse off than you are.” He leans closer to her, almost as if he’s disclosing a secret. “True story: I had my lesson plans and my class rules flying out of my folder and into the wind. I have no idea where any of those papers are now. I had to just tell the kids to trust me until I could make more copies.”

The woman laughs out loud, and Henry’s heart skips a beat when he first hears her laugh. She shakes her head. “I can’t believe it was that bad.”

Henry raises his eyebrow, whistles lowly, and fishes his key out of his pocket. “You’d be surprised.” He inserts the key into the lock, presses his shoulder against the door, and pushes it open.

The woman lets her arms fall a little and turns her eyes up to the lettering above his door. “Oh,  _ you’re _ Mr. Spencer?” She shifts her folders to under her arm. “I pictured you…older.”

Henry props the door open and extends his right hand to her. “Call me Henry. And, no, I’m a bit young.” He flashes her his best grin, the one that has weakened more than a few knees. His ex-girlfriend called it his  _ “Sexy-and-I-Know-It” _ smile. It never failed to earn him a makeout session.

The young woman’s eyes flick to his grin then to his hand. She shakes his proffered hand. “Madeleine Baker,” she says in her most professional voice. “And it’s totally fine that you’re not old.” She hooks her thumb over her shoulder, pointing to the room directly across from Henry’s. “I feel a  _ lot _ more comfortable with a young teacher across the hall from me, rather than some creepy dude who keeps making passes at me.”

Henry’s brow furrows. “Has that happened to you before?”

Madeleine shrugs. “In grad school. I managed to switch classes, but still.” She laughs nervously and runs her free hand through her hair. “But that’s not important.” When she sees that Henry’s about to open his mouth, she holds up her hand to stop him. “Maybe when we’re closer friends. But certainly not now.”

Henry nods slowly. “I suppose that’s fair.” He sighs. “Listen, uh, all the teachers have a meeting in…” he sticks out his left hand and shakes his hand a couple times to get his sleeve far enough away from his watch for him to read the time. “We need to be there in five minutes.” He jerks his head towards his room. “All I have to do is set down my briefcase, and then I can come over to your room and help you with any last-minute adjustments.”

Madeleine breathes out a sigh of relief, and her shoulders relax. “That– that would be great. Thank you.”

Henry hurries into his classroom, sets his briefcase onto his desk, and walks back out into the hallway. Madeleine is struggling to get her key into the lock while keeping all of her folders from falling out of her arms.

Henry smiles softly and sidles up to her. “Here, Maddy, let me take something.”

Maddy looks at him in astonishment, her key momentarily forgotten. “Did you just call me Maddy?”

Henry leans away from her, pulling his hands away from her folders. “Was I not supposed to? I won’t anymore if you hate i–”

Maddy smiles and shakes her head quickly, reaching out and resting her hand on his arm. “No, no, it’s fine. It’s just…no one ever calls me Maddy. I mean, my family does, but no one else has.”

Henry hesitantly takes her folders. “Are you sure it’s alright?”

Maddy’s smile grows bigger. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s fine. It’s nice coming from you.” She licks her lips and turns back to the door a little hastily, unlocking her door. “Um,” she says, pushing a strand of hair away from her face, “what– are students allowed in classrooms before school starts?”

Henry shakes his head and stands awkwardly in the doorway until Maddy tells him where to go. “Only if a teacher is in the room, and it usually depends on the teacher. I only let students in if they need to make up a test or find out their makeup assignment.” He shakes his head and sets the folders on her desk. “Besides, it’s just the first day. Students will only be filtering into their favorite teachers’ classrooms, if even that. Most of them will be catching up with friends.”

Maddy nods quickly and flips open the folders. She hands him a stack of papers. “Can you put these in that bottom drawer?”

Henry bends down and pulls open the drawer. “Front or back?”

“Uh…front.” She straightens another stack of papers, puts it on top of her manila folder, and adjusts her seating chart. “Should I do a seating chart, or should I just let my students be where they want to be?”

Henry stands up, and his legs shake with the effort of his run this morning. “I’d let them choose for now, but if they get too rowdy around their friends, I’d whip out the seating chart and give them assigned seating.” He pushes up his sleeve and winces. “We have a minute to get to the meeting. Come on, let’s go.”

Maddy jogs after him, cursing his long legs and her heels. “Wait, your name is Henry Spencer?”

Henry slows his pace just enough that he doesn’t have to glance over his shoulder to maintain a conversation with Maddy. “That’s right.”

She fiddles with her bracelet. “Did you– did you happen to play baseball for Berkeley, by chance?”

Henry smiles at her and resists the urge to run his hand through his hair. He just adjusts his tie instead. “All four years. Why do you ask?”

Maddy gapes at him. “I  _ went _ to Berkeley. I went to your baseball games. You were really, really good. Why aren’t you playing in the major leagues?”

Henry shrugs and scratches his nose. “I blew out my rotator’s cuff. It wasn’t as bad as most pitchers’, but it was over an accumulation of nearly twenty years, and I figured it was time to walk away.”

Maddy nods. “Makes sense.”

Henry moves his hand so that it hovers over her shoulder blade, guiding her without force into the teachers’ lounge. “I do coach baseball in the spring,” he whispers in her ear, bending down enough that only she can hear.

Maddy glances at him over her shoulder and smiles at him. He pulls out a chair for her at the conference table and sits next to her, pressing his tie to his chest as he sits.

Principal Herb Wilkins stands at the head of the table and leans against the table. He presses his hands to the table, his fingers spread apart. “Welcome back, returning teachers. New teachers, we welcome you here.” He holds up a thick stack of documents and sets it back on the table, sliding it to the nearest teacher. “All of you have heard the code book before, but I want to emphasize that we  _ need _ to crack down on dress code more this year.”

Henry groans and presses his hand to his forehead.

Herb straightens up. “Henry? Is there something you would like to say?”

Henry takes the first paper off the top of the stack and hands it to Maddy before he takes the next one for himself. “Yes, Herb, I would. Dress code is pretty awful, to say the least. The only thing guys can’t do is wear a hat. I mean, there’s the entire rule about not wearing gang-related clothing, but aside from that, guys don’t really have a dress code. Meanwhile,  _ we _ have to determine if what a girl is wearing is inappropriate?” Henry scoffs. “What kind of male teacher looks at his students and thinks that what she’s wearing is inappropriate?”

Don Peters props his chin in his hand. “So girls can’t ever wear anything inappropriate?”

Henry rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I’m saying. It’s one thing if a girl is wearing a crop top that exposes her midriff or shorts that barely cover her butt, but if she’s just wearing Nike shorts, or if she’s wearing  _ leggings? _ What’s wrong with that? What’s wrong with sleeveless shirts? It’s a girl’s choice if she wants to be cold.”

Maddy ducks her head and smiles, lifting her hand to cover her smile.

Herb smiles tightly. “We appreciate your feminist beliefs, Henry, but now isn’t the time.” Herb shifts his glance away from Henry and lasers Jack Atwater with a glare. “And, Jack, would you  _ please _ stop letting your students make donut runs? If you want to get donuts before class, that’s one thing, but don’t let your students leave the school building.”

Jack rolls his eyes but gives Herb a thumbs-up nonetheless.

Herb checks the clock on the wall at the other end of the room. Henry swivels in his spinning chair, forcing it to squeak, his eyes still trained on Herb.

Herb sighs. “Well, school is about to begin. Everyone, back to your classes.”

Maddy stands up, pulling the handbook to her chest. “You know, Henry, I never would have thought that you would have been that defensive of a girl’s right to wear Nike shorts?”

Henry grunts and squeezes past his chair. “Well, it’s not fair that guys can do pretty much anything and girls can’t. It never bugged me to see girls wearing Nike shorts; why should I send them home just because some old-ass teacher with traditional views stuck in the 1950s gets a boner whenever he sees Nike shorts?”

Maddy snorts. “I don’t think it’s  _ that _ extreme, Henry.”

He shrugs. “Maybe you’re right, but still: girls shouldn’t be sent home when their outfits don’t bother anyone, so I’m not going to.”

Maddy gasps sharply. “You should follow the rules, Henry.”

Henry frowns and shakes his head. “I do my job and I’m good at it. Aside from the looser dress code in my class, I do everything that’s asked of me and more. I stick to a curriculum, and I teach my students. There’s a reason I wasn’t fired.”

Maddy rolls her eyes and nudges him with her elbow. “Well, don’t jinx me.”

Henry grins at her. “Somehow, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

*

Maddy straightens her papers as her junior class files into the room. A couple kids glance around warily and hesitantly lower themselves into the desks nearest the door. She waits until the tardy bell rings and silently passes the rules pages to her students.

“Before I start going over rules and telling you everything you already know, we’re going to play a get-to-know-you game.” Once she hands a stack to the last row, she sets the remainder of the stack onto her computer desk and leans against it. “See, you all might know each other quite well. Or fairly well. However, I’m a new teacher, and I don’t know any of you.” She points to the whiteboard, where she’s scribbled a list of games. “We will play never-have-I-ever in a little bit, but let me tell you a bit about myself.” Maddy pushes herself off the desk and walks to the middle of the room. “I went to Berkeley and got my degree in psychology. My master’s degree is in English, so rest assured: you will not have a teacher teaching you stuff they don’t know. I also  _ loathe _ ancient literature, so this year and next, you can count on us only reading fairly modern literature.”

The kids blink back at her, and Maddy sighs, walks back to one of the cabinets, and pulls out a bowl of candy.

“Also: never tell me that you hate reading. I understand if you hate reading certain books, but the more likely scenario is that you just don’t read enough to enjoy it.” She shakes her head and starts dropping packets of Skittles onto each student’s desk. “But I digress. Back to me: um, I grew up in Chicago, my favorite color is grass green, spring is my favorite season, I’m definitely not a morning person, and I’m still adjusting to California humidity.”

One student – Maddy thinks his name is Eriq or something preppy like that – stares quizzically at the Skittles packet on his desk. “What are these for?”

Maddy smiles. “We’re playing Never Have I Ever in a sec. Who all plays sports here?”

At least half of her classroom raises their hands.

Maddy nods. “Well, I played water polo in high school.”

One of the girls furrows her brow. “Water polo? Where?”

Maddy raises her eyebrow and digs a Skittles packet out of the bowl. “In Chicago. I was on the first team to qualify for State in the school’s history.”

One other kid – geez, maybe Maddy should have made them give her their names sooner – leans his forearms on his desk. “How good were you?” he asks, a smile creeping up his face.

Maddy points at him. “That is for another time. The class must reach level 4 to unlock my complete athletic history.”

The class laughs.

Maddy tears open her package. “Right. So, rules for Never Have I Ever: please tell me your first and last name, and then say something that you have definitely never done.” She pours out her Skittles into her palm. “If you  _ have _ done it before, you need to eat a Skittle. Once we’re down to five people who still have Skittles, you guys can personally attack. I’ll play along with you.” She waits for the students to open up their Skittles packages. “I’m Madeleine Baker, but you all are  _ only _ allowed to call me Ms. Baker. Never have I ever…” she narrows her eyes and surveys her class. “Never have I ever played high school basketball.”

A few students sigh heavily and shove a Skittle into their mouths. Maddy chuckles and leans against her desk.

Maybe teaching won’t be so bad after all.

Granted, she thinks as she looks across the hallway where Henry is most certainly standing on top of a stool and gesticulating wildly, it is only the first day.

*

Henry makes an internal list of his bad students. Now, he recognizes that they’re just kids and he needs to give them all a chance and treat them with agape love, but there are just those that remind him of Jack and he keeps his eye out for them. There are fewer this year than there were last year, and that, Henry thinks, is a bonus.

After the final bell ring, he huffs out a breath between his lips, and grabs his briefcase. The weight of it is deceiving of the year to come: he’s about to have pounds of papers to grade, some good, most bad, and he’s going to have lesson plans and graded papers and the weight of the knowledge that Jack probably stole it.

Basically, Henry needs a new briefcase, he’s just too broke to afford one. He’s not too broke to afford pizza, but he definitely is too broke for any kind of briefcase.

As he steps out of his classroom, Maddy steps outside of hers and tucks her hair nervously behind her ear. When she sees Henry, she forces a smile.

“So…” she says.

He smirks. “So,” he repeats.

She winces and shrugs. “Is the first day always this nerve-wracking?”

Henry chuckles and jerks his head to the doors. “Only when it’s your first year teaching. I promise, you’ll find yourself a rhythm. Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”

**Author's Note:**

> Like it, love it, hate it? Leave a comment below or go to my tumblr, @ my-glasses-are-dirty, and tell me what you think!


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